


latte foam and penguins

by preromantics



Category: Glee
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-11
Updated: 2011-05-11
Packaged: 2017-10-19 07:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preromantics/pseuds/preromantics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Option 'B' is: body-sliding across the table to in an embarrassing penguin-like fashion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	latte foam and penguins

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ: 2/14/11.

Kurt considers three things at once: a) taking out his phone and snapping a picture, b) body-sliding across the table to in an embarrassing penguin-like fashion, or c) just telling Blaine about the foam clinging to his upper lip. "You have latte foam on your lip," he says, eventually, raising his own lid covered drink to try and conceal the twist of his own mouth. 

Blaine tilts his head to the side for a second, and Kurt watches in near brain-malfunctioning slow motion as Blaine's tongue darts out to lick away the foam. For a second Kurt considers the penguin table slide thing again but refrains. 

"Delicious," Blaine says, smacking his lips, licking them again -- alright, either Kurt pissed off some higher power today or Blaine is being deliberate. The latter thought of which sends lovely little hot beverage disturbing flip flops around his stomach. 

"You look like you are contemplating murder," Blaine says a beat later. 

"I'm contemplating penguin-sliding over the table top," Kurt says, evenly. 

"Penguin sliding?" Blaine asks, though he doesn't seem puzzled by the thought. He nods. "Better than murder." 

Kurt takes another sip of his coffee, waits. 

"Unless penguin sliding is some sort of new fad murder technique -- a way to jump me across the table? I don't keep up with that sort of thing," Blaine says. (Their ankles sort of brush together under the table and Kurt remembers to swallow correctly just in time, face passive as his eyes water just a little.)

"I'm hoping you were referring to jumping me from across the table in a way not conducive to eventual murder in cold blood, though," Blaine adds after a moment.

It only takes a moment for both of them to break their even stares and start laughing, because -- well, their communication still definitely needs some work. 

"While the former is rather appealing right now," Kurt says, laughing harder when Blaine's eyebrows shoot up, "I think -- I meant the latter. Not the whole jumping thing just the. Kissing?" 

"Kissing," Blaine repeats. "I was wondering when we'd get around to that. Waiting patiently and not pressuring you at all, of course."

"You had  _foam_  on your  _lip_ ," Kurt says. (He knows Blaine's been waiting for him, logically, and it's kind of sweet but also sort of maddening, and now they're talking about it in the middle of a cafe over coffee with their ankles brushing and snow outside and --) "I think that counts as some form of pressuring in at least 32 states."

"Unintentionally," Blaine says. "Milk mustaches aren't exactly in style." 

"I haven't gotten the March issue of Vogue yet, so who knows," Kurt shrugs, back to ignoring the space between them and how much he really, really wants to kiss Blaine. (How he's thought about doing just that over coffee so many times he's lost count, how he really wishes he was better at this, all of it, and that Blaine wasn't as hesitant about approaching whatever they were going to call what they were as Kurt was himself.)

Blaine grins. "Keep me posted," he says. 

Kurt looks out the cafe window for a few minutes while they drink. They both have textbooks open, if not largely ignored, out on the table, and out of the corner of his eye Kurt can see Blaine looking down at a passage, though he looks rather unfocused.

"Hey," Blaine says, suddenly, just as Kurt looks up after the last sip of his mocha and says,  _"So"_  in the most definitive way he can muster. 

Blaine's eyes widen just a tiny bit, though, and he tilts his head back and laughs. 

"What?" Kurt asks. 

"If I didn't know you," Blaine says, trailing off for a second. "I swear that was on purpose." 

Okay, so now Blaine is being deliberately -- something, obtuse. Kurt doesn't bother asking what he's talking about, instead distracted by the fluid motion and roll Blaine's entire body makes when he stands up suddenly, walking the two steps to Kurt side of the table and leaning down, much closer to Kurt's face than he was prepared for. 

"You have latte foam on your lip," Blaine says, soft and grinning and too-close (not close enough). 

Kurt darts his lip out on instinct to check, only realizing it when he nearly propels his own face into Blaine's, who doesn't move at all.

"Tempting," Blaine says, lightly, but also low, and this is where Kurt is always unsure, these little all too frequent moments they share that end in 'if only' and 'only just' and centimeters of space or fingers curled around fingers for not enough time. 

"I think you had caramel today," Kurt says, not moving his face any futher back. 

"You had mocha," Blaine supplies. 

Kurt tilts his head up just a little bit -- maybe this time, somehow -- and Blaine reaches up to run his knuckles down the side of Kurt's cheek and suddenly the entire cafe is just an inch of space between their lips like some awful, slowed down quasi-romantic moment that Rachel would wax poetic about, and why is he even thinking about Rachel, a mile a minute, and -- Blaine presses their noses together, once, drags his knuckles over Kurt's top lip and pulls away. 

Kurt watches, momentarily stunned, as Blaine licks away the little bit of foam on his knuckle, and all he can think about is why Blaine is not licking at his  _mouth_ right now, because he's ready and willing and sitting here thinking about way more than mouths on mouths because, Blaine's  _hands_  in front of his face and --

When Kurt blinks up from Blaine's hand, Blaine is looking at him with his mouth open in a near-comical 'o' shape. 

Kurt sucks in a breath. "I said some of that out loud, didn't I?" he asks, trying to keep some sort of composure in his voice and failing spectacularly. 

"Holy shit, Kurt," Blaine says, after a second. 

Kurt is glad they paid for their coffees up-front because he is about to make a hasty exit out of the front door and into non-existence. 

"Let's go," Blaine says, before Kurt can actually make his own exit. 

"Go?" Kurt asks. 

"To the nearest non-public area as fast as possible, yes," Blaine says, nodding to himself and extending a hand to Kurt. 

Kurt hopes his face does not look the same combination of shocked and overwhelmingly pleased as he feels, because he imagines it would be a rather unattractive combination of facial expressions. "Oh," he says. 

A half hour later, Kurt again considers three things at once: a) taking his phone out and taking a picture of Blaine with his hair all rumpled and lips flushed deep and swollen, the buttons on his coat and shirt mysteriously undone halfway down his chest to keep as a keepsake forever, b) crawling over the gearshift in the car entirely to settle on Blaine's lap, his new amazing jeans be-damned, or c) crawling into the backseat and pulling Blaine over Titanic-style, possibly minus the sex windows but maybe not. 

He settles on option c, because the gear shift looks dangerous and he'll probably -- hopefully -- have many more opportunities in the near future to memorize the new decidedly un-put together Blaine below him, and considering he started out his afternoon visualizing himself as a penguin, Kurt thinks that's pretty awesome.


End file.
